


Late Night Hours

by j_gabrielle



Category: Fast and the Furious Series, Hobbs & Shaw (2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 18:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: Hobbs feels the back of his teeth itch and water with an unspeakable urge to sink his teeth into them. Mark him up, own him. The familiar heated pool of possesive desire sits deep and heavy in his gut. He wants everything with this man, all of it, the violent and the good.





	Late Night Hours

Deckard moans, low and deep and muffled by the pillow he hides his face into. The muscles on his back coiled tight tension and the sight of his body moving in response to his own has him inhaling with a hiss. Hobbs feels the back of his teeth itch and water with an unspeakable urge to sink his teeth into them. Mark him up, own him. The familiar heated pool of possesive desire sits deep and heavy in his gut. He wants everything with this man, all of it, the violent and the good.

Hobbs leans in, pressing Deckard down flat onto the mattress resting his bulk and weigh, pinning the other man down and fucking him without any finesse, rocking into him, working on pure instinct. "C'mon, c'mon," Deckard slurs, spurring him on, meeting his thrusts with the rocking of his hips. The room is filled with the sounds of their flesh meeting, the slick music of their bodies moving together in a headying chase of pleasure. Hobbs blankets him, holding him tight by the wrists pinned above their heads.

His lover - because that is the only thing that fits when they're like this - whines brokenly, face a ruddy red. His lashes flutter a shadow beat as he blinks. The ass muscles clamping down around his bare cock tightens and undulates. Hobbs groans. He's close.

He tells him as much, snapping his hips viscously, dragging his mouth to Deckard. Kissing him breathless, licking in, choking him with his tongue. 

"Let go." Hobbs tastes the words whispered on the seam of his lips. "Let go for me, Luke."

His climax starbursts. Lightning bolts of liquid happiness setting free a kaleidoscope of butterflies in his belly that feels a whole lot like free falling. Hobbs blacks out from it, struck dumb by the electrifying sensation of his release. He hears his name on the fuzzy edges of his conciousness; an insistent whine that percolates through the comfortable darkness.

"...get off me, you lug."

Hobbs scoffs. Tilting his head in to nudge his nose lazily against the jut of Deckard's cheekbones. "In a minute," He says.

"Hobbs, I swear, you need to get off me, I haven't come..."

That pricks him back into the here and now. Slowly, he pushes himself up onto his elbows, cock still softening in the lush warmth of Deckard's body. The sheen of sweat on his skin catches in the light of the room and had he been ten years younger, Hobbs could see himself going for another round in this body. As it is, he eases himself out of him with careful gentleness. With more tenderness he ever knew he was capable of, he helps Deckard onto his back, urging his thighs around his waist. 

"Luke." He starts. The syllables of his name rushing out in an exhale. "Luke," He says again, hands reached out for him. He surges down, one hand snaking between them to wrap around Deckard's cock. He kisses him once, chaste and sweet, and then again, open mouthed, heated and all tongues and teeth. He swallows the gasps, licking every helpless cry out of him as his hand jerks him off with the finesse that comes with practice and intimate knowledge of Deckard's body.

The thighs around his waist tightens and clench when he comes, body arching up against his in a helpless arc of euphoria. Hobbs holds him through it, cradling him by the cheek, kissing, pressing everything he hasn't had the words for yet into every even touch of skin to skin.

"Get off me." He hears panted to his jaw. Hobbs chuckles tiredly, but complies. Rolling off him to flop gracelessly at Deckard's side. They really should do something about the sweat and spunk on their body and the bed; maybe crack open a window for the heat in the room, grab a glass of water or something. But there's just the barest brush of Deckard's little finger against his own where their hands are laying on the bed, and there may be something more about the way being side by side with him feels like a inherent rightness deep in his bones, so he stays where he is instead. 

(and if somehow, in the early silver blue light right before dawn, Hobbs wakes to find Deckard tucked up under his chin, chest to chest, limbs a comfortable tangle, then the contentment that runs through him merely sends him back to sleep with a smile)

**Author's Note:**

> I have never, will never, allow any reposting or translations of my works without my permission. All of my works will and shall only be hosted on my personal accounts on AO3 (j_gabrielle), Dreamwidth (j_gabrielle) and Tumblr (randomingoftherandomness, hardheartshere).
> 
> For those who say that I never said anything, it is clearly stated on my AO3 profile bio.
> 
> I do not have a Twitter account.
> 
> I do not have a Wattpad account.
> 
> **Please Do Not Repost My Fics**


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